by Anne Moody
I had always thought that because Mrs. Willis was the principal’s wife, she had used the school money from the snack bar and other places to make sure her class queen won. But now that she was working the hell out of us every day, I saw that she won because she was better organized than the other teachers. She divided the class into five groups and each day of the week one of the groups was selling something. In addition to that she gave evening socials to raise still more money. At the rate we were going, I knew we couldn’t lose.
A week before Homecoming, a special chapel meeting was called, and each class presented the money it had raised. The total amount raised by all the classes was about seventeen hundred dollars and our class had raised about eight hundred of that. This was far more than the nearest competition. The school secretary asked the eighth grade queen to come up on stage and present the money to Principal Willis. When she handed me the money I almost felt like I had earned it all, I was so tired. I really didn’t want to hand it to Willis, who was standing there with that big fat grin on his face I couldn’t stand.
Walking to work that evening, I got panicky as I remembered that Homecoming was less than a week away. I had worked so hard to raise money to become queen that I had completely forgotten that a queen had to get all dressed up in an evening gown and all that stuff. All I had to my name was one pair of blue jeans and two shrunken dresses.
When I got to Linda Jean’s I was so depressed that I didn’t feel like working.
“Why’re you so blue, Essie?” she asked. “Did you lose the race?”
“I wish I had lost,” I mumbled.
“What, do you mean you won? Then why are you so sad?” she asked.
When I explained to her that I had forgotten about the gown, that I didn’t have any money left, that Homecoming was next week and I didn’t know what I would do, she rushed to her closet. She returned with an old pink faded gown that looked like something Mrs. Burke had worn when she was a teen-ager. The gown depressed me even more. When she saw the expression on my face I didn’t have to tell her what I thought about it. She just quickly put it back in the closet.
When I got home I went straight to my room and bopped down on the bed. Mama came right after me. I was looking so sad she also thought I had lost. When I told her I had won, she shouted around a bit like she had just been made queen or something.
“What you got your mouth all stuck out about then? I can see you sittin’ up there on that float now,” she said, looking in the mirror at herself.
“Yeah, sittin’ up there with blue jeans on?” I sneered.
“Well, that is a little problem,” she said, prancing before the mirror, “but we may clear that up pretty soon.”
“What you mean we’re gonna clear that up pretty soon? Where we gonna get money from to buy a gown that look like anything?”
“Well, I tol’ your daddy’s cousin Clara about two weeks ago that you were gonna be queen and she tol’ me that Diddly was workin’ in New Orleans makin’ a lotta money, and I gave her your dress size and tol’ her to write him and tell him to buy you a gown.”
“But Homecoming is Thursday and that’s been two weeks ago,” I protested.
“Don’t you worry, he better buy it!” she said, leaving me on the bed.
I wondered why all of a sudden she was betterin’ Daddy to do something when she wouldn’t even let him help us when we were young and starving. I guessed she wanted me to look good and, since we were so broke, she was willing to swallow her pride. I was still a little worried because Homecoming was so close, but she had said “he better buy it” so threateningly that I figured Daddy would probably come through.
When Tuesday passed and I still hadn’t heard from Daddy, I got so upset that I was ready to tell Mrs. Willis the next day that I couldn’t be queen. But on Wednesday when I got to school and everybody was treating me so queenly, I changed my mind and figured that I would be queen even if I had to wear Linda Jean’s old faded-out pink gown. I came home that evening after work with Linda Jean’s gown under my arm. Mama was waiting for me on the porch.
“What’s that in that box?” she asked.
I didn’t say anything. I went into the house and, throwing open the box, I grabbed the gown and held it against me.
“How do you like Frankenstein’s bride?” I said, putting on a monster face.
“Where in the shit you got that thing from?” Mama said. “Look like somethin’ from the forty-ist century!”
“Ye-es? Well, tomorrow is the forty-ist century for me!” I said, throwing the gown on my bed and making a vomiting noise.
“Clara say come up there, she got a letter for you from Diddly,” Mama suddenly whispered.
“A letter!” I screamed. “And the parade is tomorrow? What in the shit am I gonna do with a letter! I …”
“Shh! Shh!” Mama said, pointing wildly toward the kitchen. I knew Raymond was in the kitchen and that he probably didn’t know anything about Mama contacting Daddy, so I didn’t say anything else and just left for Clara’s.
A few minutes later I was knocking on Miss Clara’s door.
“Who is it?” I heard my cousin call.
“It’s me, Essie Mae.”
“Just a minute, honey!” I could hear a lot of bustling around inside. Then the door opened.
“I been waitin’ for you. I thought you weren’t comin’,” Clara said, beckoning me to come into the living room.
“Mama said you had a letter for me from Daddy,” I said, sitting down on her sofa.
“Wait a minute, I have to go in here and get it.” She disappeared into the bedroom. A few moments later she appeared in the doorway with a big smile on her face.
“Here it is, signed, sealed, and delivered,” she said, reaching her arm behind her, pulling someone into the room.
My mouth went wide open when I saw that it was Daddy. I hadn’t seen him since the day he was squatting in the yard when Granddaddy died. He was standing there grinning, with a big box in his hand. He looked taller than I remembered and his mustache was much thicker. He was dressed like a real city slicker in matching sweater and suit. He looked good. I just stood there gaping at him.
“Well, you came for the letter and here it is,” Miss Clara finally said, breaking the awkward silence. Then Daddy moved toward me as if he wanted to throw the box down and take me in his arms like I was his little girl. But instead he clumsily placed the box on the sofa and quietly said, “Go on, open it.”
I quickly turned away from him to the box, glad to get away from the longing look in his eyes. It was a big white long box with blue ribbon tied around it. I opened it slowly.
“Oh!” I gasped. There in the box was a beautiful blue lacebodiced gown. I sat there looking at it for a long time. I wanted to hug Daddy and kiss him and thank him for it, but I just couldn’t draw myself to do it.
“Take it out, take it out and look at it,” Daddy said.
I carefully removed it from the box and held it against me as I stood up.
“Boy, you gonna look good tomorrow!” Clara said, pulling me to a long mirror on the door to the bedroom. “Diddly, you sho’ know yo’ clothes!”
As I looked at myself in the mirror I could see him behind me looking and smiling.
“Ain’t she just pretty?” he said to Miss Clara. I felt I had to say something.
“Oh, it’s so pretty. Thank you so much,” I said, wishing that I had the nerve to call him “Daddy,” if only to please him. I could see a little flicker of hurt across his face but he covered it quickly by asking about Adline and Junior. We talked very briefly and then I ran out of the house, hugging the box to my breast. I glanced back as I ran and saw Daddy on the porch with Miss Clara, watching me.
I knew everyone was sitting in the kitchen so I went through the back door.
“Mama, y’all, look at this!” I yelled, running through the kitchen to my room. I took the gown out and was holding it in front of me when Mama, Adline, and all the children came in.
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“Ooh, where did you get that?” Adline asked.
Just as I was about to answer I saw Raymond looking into the room.
“Where did you get that gown from?” Raymond asked, looking like he already knew the answer.
“My daddy bought it!” I said.
He didn’t say anything. He just turned around and went back to the kitchen and Mama followed him. I didn’t care what he thought. I spent the next couple of hours prancing around, but I wasn’t really happy. Adline and Junior were jealous that Daddy didn’t buy them anything. Raymond was angry because he thought Mama had been seeing Daddy again and Mama was upset because Raymond was upset. But I made up my mind that I wouldn’t let them spoil it for me, so I lost myself in dreams of how I would look tomorrow in that gown.
I got up early Thursday morning, my big day. Because I was queen I felt I didn’t have to rush. The morning at school would be spent decorating the floats. Since I had to go to the hair dresser, I told Adline to tell Mrs. Willis I’d be in about twelve. For the first time during the whole Homecoming excitement, I was relaxed, knowing I had that beautiful gown to put on. Going to the hairdresser made the day seem even more special, since I had only gone there once before in my life.
I walked up on campus around one o’clock. The whole place looked and sounded like a carnival. There were cars, tractors, trucks, and all kinds of vehicles everywhere, and kids were scrambling all over them taping on crepe paper. Clutching my gown box, I walked among them looking for my class. Now I was even more aware of the noise and excitement. Girls were walking around with their hair teased and curled, most of the boys had fresh haircuts and their best suits on, and everybody looked beautiful to me.
Turning a corner, I saw Mrs. Willis standing over the crowd on some sort of platform. As I got closer I saw that she was on a big trailer truck, pointing and yelling at my classmates. “Ben, Joe, c’mon, y’all boys, let’s get busy and fix those chairs on these markings,” Mrs. Willis shouted to some of the boys nearby. “Look, here comes the queen! Everything is late today! The truck is late, the queen is late, and the decorations aren’t even here yet!” she said, shouting at no one in particular.
As I walked up to one of my “attendants,” she warned me that Mrs. Willis was in a bad mood, that at the last minute we almost didn’t get the truck. And the girls who had gone over three hours ago to pick up the decorations ordered by Mrs. Willis still hadn’t returned. I stood around for a while not saying anything. Soon the girls came with the decorations and Mrs. Willis got everybody but me and my court busy working on the float.
Once she had gotten the others started, she led me and my six attendants to her house where we were to dress. We all crowded into her guest room and the girls immediately began opening their boxes and showing their gowns. It had been planned that all six of them would wear white, and I, the queen, would wear blue. As they pranced around showing their gowns off, I could see that each one thought that hers was the prettiest. And suddenly I couldn’t keep myself from laughing. Dorothy, the girl I beat for queen, noticed that I was laughing and, thinking that I was making fun of her, said in a loud nasty voice, “What are you laughing at, Moody? You think jus’ ’cause you’re queen you should have a room all to yourself to dress in?”
A couple of Dorothy’s pals laughed. I stood there with the unopened box in my hands, still smiling. All the girls looked at me, curious. One of Dorothy’s friends said, “Why don’t you show us your gown, Moody?”
Without saying a word, I walked slowly over to one of the two beds in the room, placed the box on it and carefully opened it, folding back the tissue paper. They all crowded around, as if I was unveiling a newborn baby. As I lifted the gown from the box and held it against me, they all went “ooh” and “where did you get that?” and I could see that not one of them thought her gown was pretty any more.
“Oh, so that’s what you were standing there laughing for, making fun of our gowns!” Dorothy hissed. “Where did you get it from anyway? Borrow it from the white folks you work for?”
Just then Mrs. Willis appeared in the door.
“All right, girls, leave Moody alone! After all, she is queen and she deserves to have the prettiest gown! Now y’all stop this bickering and get washed up. I’m gonna go get some of the high school girls to help make you up. Okay, Dorothy, I don’t want no stuff while I’m gone!”
By the time Mrs. Willis was back with the girls we were sitting there in our gowns ready to be made up. Because it was nearing four o’clock, parade time, the girls rushed right in, throwing towels around our necks and wildly brushing our hair into big bouffants. I sat there feeling like a pampered princess as they brushed on the powder, applied the mascara and blended two shades of lipstick together. I was sitting on a stool with my back to the mirror, and since I had never worn mascara before, I was scared that they were messing my eyes up, so I kept trying to turn my head and peep in the mirror. But every time I tried, the mascara brush would slip, drawing a heavy black line right into my ear, and the hairdressers would grab my head and scream, “Moody, we’ll never get your hair fixed! Stop turnin’ around! You can look in the mirror in a minute. Look at your face!” One girl seemed to be doing nothing but wiping mascara off my face with tissue. She looked like she wanted to poke my eyes out. They teased my hair up high in front, with long curls left hanging in the back.
Just as they were finishing, Mrs. Willis ran in with a crown in her hands. “Oh my! Is that my queen? How beautiful! Here, put this on her! If the rest of you are finished, go on out on the float,” she said to the other girls, who were sitting around looking at me being made up. They got up reluctantly and went out. The only ones left in the room were Mrs. Willis, the two girls doing my hair, and me.
When they had carefully pinned the crown to my hair, Mrs. Willis said, smiling, “Turn around, Queen, look at yourself.”
I pulled the stool out a bit. I was scared to look in the mirror now that they were all finished. But from the way Mrs. Willis was looking at me, I could tell that I must look pretty.
When I turned I had to touch my face to see if it was me. I sat there in front of the mirror for a good five minutes; I kept staring at myself, at my piled-up hair, my full breasts and wide hips—I realized that I was no longer a little girl. Then Mrs. Willis was tapping me on the shoulder, motioning that it was time to go. As I got up, I took one more glance at myself. Full figure, I seemed even less real. Seeing how perfectly the gown fitted, I thought of Daddy and wished that he could see me in it, riding down the main street of Centreville, Queen of Willis High.
As I stepped outside behind Mrs. Willis, the cold November breeze hit my bare shoulders, sending a chill through me. But as I looked around and saw all of my classmates staring at me, I grew warmer. The boys stood gaping and oohing and the girls looked on enviously. Mrs. Willis was now walking beside me, smiling proudly. As we walked up to the crowd, she gestured with her hands, and they made a space for me to walk through. I felt like I was walking on a velvet carpet. Suddenly I saw the float, all covered with blue and white crepe paper. My whole court was there, waiting for me, the girls sitting in their white gowns and the boys standing behind them in their dark blue suits. As I walked up to them, Joe Lee, my escort, came forward to the edge of the float. I looked up and saw that he had tails on. I figured he must have gotten them from New Orleans too.
There was a chair that was being used by everyone to step up on the float. Just as I was about to do so, one of the big guys in my class who liked me rushed up to me and, sweeping me into his arms, whispered, “The queen deserves to be carried.” Then another guy, getting into the act, jumped up on the chair and I was passed into his arms and he carefully placed me on the float. Once I was seated with my court behind me and Joe Lee standing by my side in his tux, I felt more than ever like a queen.
As soon as I was seated, the floats started lining up behind the band. A few minutes later we were slowly moving toward town. As we turned the corner into Main Street
, it looked like just about every Negro and white in Centreville had turned out for the parade. The stores were deserted and I saw salesmen I knew standing on the street. Everybody was waving and cheering. Then I saw Mama standing where she said she would be, in front of the service station. I waved at her and I could tell she wasn’t sure that it was me. Turning slightly, I found myself looking into a group of white faces. There was Linda Jean, staring like she didn’t know me either. She started to wave, but hesitated. Then I waved at her and she waved back, giving me a look that said, “My, how beautiful you are,” as if she was surprised that a Negro could look that beautiful. I wanted to answer her and say, “Yes, Linda Jean, it’s me. Negroes can be beautiful too.” I got an urge to yell it to her but instead I just smiled and waved some more.
When the band reached the center of Main Street, they stopped marching and began playing. As they hit the first notes of “Dixie,” I thought I would die, especially when I saw some of the familiar white faces bellowing out the lyrics. There was one big fat man in the crowd that cracked up Joe Lee and the others on my float. He was so fat that every word sent his big pregnant-looking belly jolting up and down. I sat there for a while trying to keep my cool and not laugh and carry on like the girls behind me. But when he raised his arms and his pants fell under that big fat belly, I forgot I was queen. I just couldn’t hold in the laughter. He was so overcome with sentimentality for “Dixie” that he just let his big naked red belly shake, and every time it shook, we laughed harder and harder. “Dixie” seemed to have made everyone happy, Negroes and whites. After the band finished that tune they played a very fast one and the majorettes did their little steps. Then they tuned up and swung into “Swanee River.” It seemed like the whole town was singing now. As they sang I sat up there on that float and had the strangest feeling. Somehow I had chills all over my body and I was overcome by a sudden fear. The faces of the whites had written on them some strange yearning. The Negroes looked sad. I sat there wondering, trying to get some meaning from the song as I listened closely to the words:
